On a walk through my neighborhood Thursday night, I noticed a spelling error, forever entombed in concrete.

I know the social media age has ushered in a free for all when it comes to spelling, grammar and language rules in general. And those of us who know better are reluctant to correct, because the internet has branded us as "NAZIS!" for even suggesting that someone seek counsel for their bad habits.

But the lingering memories of Sister John Margaret making me spell correctly lives on in my head, and I can't take it any more.

While walking through my northeast side neighborhood last night I came across this:


I know this Michigan State alum and/or fan just wanted to show love for their chosen school, but if you're going to write something into concrete, please check the spelling, or else people will think you're stupid well beyond your time on this earth.

And at the risk of being called a Nazi, the correct spelling is S-P-A-R-T-A-N-S.

And while I'm on the subject, this misspelling of Division Street on a street sign is still up near 44th Street, almost seven years after I first came across it.


That is all. Thank you.

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